Unfiltered Anger
by Emilamoo
Summary: She'd never seen him so angry before. He was sputtering unfiltered anger, and it scared her. Spoilers for "47 Seconds." Rated for language. Drama/Angst/Hurt/Romance.


**So, I've been reading all these fics where Beckett apologizes to Castle, and they make [out] up. I sometimes wonder if that's what she'd really do… granted, she was questioning whether to spill the beans in the promo to "Limey," but I still find it a bit… I dunno. Unrealistic? I mean, would he really just drop it all and forgive her right away just 'cuz she told him she loved him? He was so hurt. **

**Anywho, that's where this came from. As heartbreaking as the episode was, I searched the angsty corners of my brain and drew this from it, the way I thought her [first] apology would go down.**

**Spoilers: 4x19, "47 Seconds"**

**Disclaimer: I sobbed myself to sleep after this episode. Would I do that to other fans if I owned the show? Okay, so yeah, I probably would, BUT, I do not own it.**

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><p>"<em>You can see that I know, and I know<br>Somewhere there's a sorry heart.  
>Tell me why these roads keep leading,<br>Leading you right back to me._

_Liar liar, don't cry on my shoulder.  
>You played with fire, and smiled when you told her.<br>Oh, oh oh, thought you were someone;  
>Oh, oh oh, goodbye to no one."<em>

-"Liar Liar," Christie Grimmerie

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><p><strong>Unfiltered Anger<strong>

_Why _is it so sunny?

Castle sits in his office, sipping Scotch numbly as the rest of the world continues, just fine and dandily. His laptop lies on his lap, the "YOU SHOULD BE WRITING" screensaver running along its screen. The sun shines more brightly than he can ever remember it, yet his world has never been darker. _How ironic, _he muses bitterly. Perhaps it's just his writer-side causing him to be so melodramatic, but he honestly doesn't give a damn anymore. He doesn't give a damn about anything anymore.

It's been over a week since The Event happened. Every passing case, day, cold comment on his behalf, Beckett's flashed him a bewildered, confused look. It was so sad it was almost funny. Was she really that clueless? Yes, of course she was; she clearly cared about no one by herself. Why would she bother trying to figure it out on her own?

Castle vaguely hears a knock in the background. He ignores it. Alexis will get it. Or Martha. Someone will. Just not him.

Alexis bounds down the stairs, opening the door. A sour expression crosses her fine features as she realizes who it is. "You have got a _lot _of nerve to show your face here after what you've done."

Beckett's brows furrow, a little taken back. "Excuse me?"

"_Don't-_" The red head's body trembles violently with rage, and she glances behind her before stepping into the hallway, shutting the door before continuing. "_Don't _pretend like you don't know what you did-"

"-but I _don't,_" Beckett cuts in exasperatedly.

_BAM._

Alexis's hand slaps the wall behind her roughly, causing the older woman to jump roughly, causing the older woman to jump a bit, startled. "_I wasn't finished,_" she seethes, cheeks bright red and her other hand clenched tightly in a fist. "You hurt my father so deeply, so irreversibly, and you think you can just… waltz in here and make things better, but you can't. You just _can't. _You won't be able to, and never will."

_How _did she hurt him? Beckett's still baffled, mouth gaping slightly at the outburst. But even more so, she's beginning to become a bit agitated. Who the hell gave his daughter the right to allow her to speak to him or not? "Look, Alexis," she starts soothingly, holding her hands up, "I appreciate your concern, but it's my right to-"

"Your _right?_" Alexis shrieks hysterically, laughing incredulously. "_Please _tell me you're joking. Oh, that's too rich, too _fucking _rich." The cop's cheeks flare, hot with anger and frustration and shock, but she just rambles on. "You wanna talk to me about _rights? _How about my father's right to- you know something? You _would _bring up your rights. God-!" She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. Her voice is soft, yet lethal. "You are so _selfi-_"

The door suddenly opens, and Martha's hand comes out to rest on the young adult's shoulder, ceasing her biting words. "That's enough, darling." Her eyes meet Beckett's, gentle, but a little chilly as well. "What can we help you with, Detective?"

Detective. Not Kate.

Beckett swallows the lump in her throat. "I, uh, I just wanted to speak with your son."

Alexis steps forward again, voice oozing with venom. "He's not available-"

"_Alexis._" Martha's sharp tone cuts her off, and she gestures behind her with her head. "That's enough. Go inside, now. Detective Beckett and I will speak alone briefly."

Her young, bright eyes flare as she loses a bit of her power. "But Gram-"

"_Now._" Her grave look causes Alexis to return to her room, but not before she shoots Beckett a death glare. Martha sighs, then returns her attention. "I'm not sure if that'd be such a good idea. This is not the best time."

Beckett nods, brushing back a lock of hair. "I understand. I just… I'm worried about him. There's something blatantly off, and I'm concerned."

The theatrical woman's eyes blink with surprise. "You mean… you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" When she remains silent, Beckett tries to meet her eyes. "Martha… you clearly know why he's been acting the way he has. Please… tell me."

Martha sighs. "This is not a conversation you should be having with me, but with Richard instead."

Beckett holds back the urge to raise her voice, taking a deep breath instead. "I understand, Martha, that's why I'm here. I can't speak with him unless you let me."

The concerned mother gnaws on her lower lip for a second, debating silently, before she eventually relents, stepping back and opening the door. She holds it out just enough for Beckett to slip inside, not invitingly. She says nothing, watching the utterly perplexed woman walk towards Castle's office. He doesn't even look up when she enters and clears her throat; he already knows it's her. He can see the flash of mocha-brown hair. He loves- _used to _love- it.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is monotone, lacking emotion. Not angry, nor sad, nor honestly questioning… just…

Nonchalant. He doesn't care. But he must, right?

She attempts to set the mood as light, a bit of playful teasing seeping into her tone. "Well, good afternoon to you, too, Castle."

He glances up at her. His eyes are icy. She shivers. "You wanna answer my question, or are you just going to bullshit me?"

Her eyes widen slightly, an eyebrow cocking at his strong use of language. She moves to sit in the chair beside his, not bothering to ask permission. "We need to talk."

He sets the Scotch aside, jiggling the touchpad so his screen's active again and suddenly becoming immensely interested on the two paragraphs he'd taken the past three hours to write (he was going to kill Nikki Heat; he wouldn't tell her until she read the book). "By all means, sit in my seat; make yourself at home. Not like you'd ever be considerate enough to ask anyway."

(The last part came out a muffled mumble.)

She forces a small smile. "Now who's bullshitting whom, hmm?"

She was using proper grammar against him; she knows it's his weakness.

Damn her.

"I'm kinda busy at the moment, Beckett. So, please. Just tell me what you want."

Her sigh fills the tense air; she's not sure how to ask what she wants to, so she just goes right at it. "What's up?"

His snarky response is automatic, shielding his hurt. "The ceiling. And, then, the sky. After that, some clouds. And then the Ozone. Outer space comes after that, and, finally, the ends of the universe. Which is actually an oxymoron, considering that the universe never ends."

"_Castle._" Her voice is tired. "Why are you being so distant, so…" She visibly struggles, searching her vocabulary and gesturing slightly, wildly, but ultimately drawing up blankly. "…mean?"

His humorless laugh echoes eerily through the large room. "Mean?"

She looks at him, tilting her head to the side curiously. "For lack of a better word, yes. Mean."

He types a few more words onto his word document before speaking. "Do elaborate."

She's quick to enlighten him. "The unfriendly comments, the dark looks, the quick, brief responses. The distance you put yourself away from me, both physically and figuratively. Why, _why, _Castle? What happened? Did I do something wrong- was it something I said?"

No. It was something you _didn't _say, and then did to a complete fucking stranger.

He laughs heartily, but it scares her a little. She frowns, and when she asks why he's laughing, he shows no hesitation in answering. "I just find it funny, that's all." Before she can inquire further explanation, he continues. "The fact that you actually seem like you care right now."

"But I _do _care." He just laughs again, a passive-aggressive "Fuck you," and continues to type. _Click, click. _"Castle, would you stop that for one second and just talk to me?"

"I've been wanting to talk to you for the past four years, ever since we met, but I'm tired of waiting, Kate." Shit, her name slipped in. He didn't mean it. "I'm done." _Click, click, click._

"Castle… what-?" _Clicketty click-click. FWHAP. _The laptop screen comes down with a bang, eyes bearing into his fiercely, forcing him to look at her. "_Damn it, _Castle, just _talk to me, _would you?"

His eyes simmer right back into hers, but not in the good way. "Frustrating, isn't it? Wanting some clarification, some answers, but not being able to get any because one person just won't answer?"

Her eyebrows furrow again, eyes darting around as she struggles to collect her thoughts. "…_what-?_"

"I _heard _you, Beckett."

"Heard me? Castle, what are you going on abo-" The color drains from her face as she realizes what he's referring to. "Oh…"

"Yeah. _Oh._" He spits the words back in her face, watching her shake her head as she opens her mouth to speak. "Save it, Beckett."

Her entire world is tumbling to her feet as she scrambles to find the words that need to be said. "No, Castle, please… let me explain. I-"

"-you don't feel the same way for me that I did you. I get it."

Did. Not do.

She's losing him already, if she hasn't already. "N-no, _no, _that's not it _at all. _I… I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared."

"You were cowardly."

It hurts her like a kick in the gut, but she lets it slide, puts herself in his position. "Yes, I was. I am _so sorry, _Castle. After all the things you've done, the least you deserve is the truth."

"Damn right I deserve the truth!" His voice rises as he does, startling her, as he looms over her. "Beckett, I _told you I loved you. _It wasn't just some tiny, 'Oh, hey, I have a crush on you;' I laid it all on the line for you. And, then, you just pretend like it never happened? I _asked _you numerous of times. You didn't just _lie _to me; you- you…"

Her eyes flicker, looking deeply into him, as she allows him to rant. "I what, Rick?"

He scoffs, shaking his head and pushing off the arms of the chair she's sitting in angrily at the use of his first name, storming to the other side of the room. "Shit. No, you don't deserve it."

Her eyes flare with heat: scorching, furious heat. "_Say it, _Rick. Or are you like me, a coward?"

"You broke my heart." His voice is quiet, surprising her yet again, and she looks to him.

"Wh…what?"

His eyes, the window to his broken, ruined soul, lock on hers, voice gravelly and rough and heartbreaking. "You held my heart, Beckett. You had it since the day I met you. I told you how I felt when I thought I was gonna lose you, although I should have earlier. I understand you not telling me at first. But then, even when asked, you continued to d_eliberately lie _to me. And to think, a year goes by with you fully aware of my feelings and yet not having the nerve, the guts, to either reciprocate or decline my feelings for you. The cherry on top? Me having to hear you spill your confession _to a complete stranger _from the other side of an interrogation window.

"You didn't just hurt me, Beckett, you took my heart, stabbed it numerous times right where it hurt, ran it over with the monster truck you call a heart, ground it to bits, and let it bleed out on the sidewalk."

Her lower lip trembles as she looks at her lap, tears threatening to spill as she breathes shakily, the weight of her actions crashing down onto her all at once. He continues on.

"I honestly thought we could have a future together, Beckett. I thought that the third time _would _be the charm, and with you, thought that I could be your One and Done. But this? How could I ever trust you knowing this? This was the lowest thing you could possibly do to me. And I know what you say now- anything you ever do or tell me that might've made my heart leap out of my chest before this- would just be a lie, a way to try to get me not to feel badly. Save the effort; don't bother."

Her heart breaks for him; she never thought he'd be so hurt. She almost scoffs. Of course he would be, and she knew that. She just wished it wouldn't have happened like that.

Beckett rises from her chair, walking slowly over to him. Her eyes hold his gaze before she stands right in front of him. "Words won't work? Fine. I'll just have to use something else." She kisses him then, frantically, a hard, desperate press of the lips to his. One hand rests on the nape of his neck, the other weaving its fingers into his hair. The kiss is sloppy, a hurried attempt of portraying her jumbled emotions.

He tries so hard not to get lost into it, not to reciprocate. His body longs to push her against his desk, let the sharp edge dig into her back before he'd hoist her up onto it, splaying her back down onto it. His lips would kiss back roughly as clothes would quickly be shed and they'd spiral into a frenzied, passionate night of falling right back in love.

But no. He won't let her do this, won't let her manipulate him with her devastating lips. Gently, yet firmly, he pushes her away, frowning deeply. He doesn't love her anymore. "Stop," he commands gruffly, stepping away. "You don't get to do that, Beckett. You don't get to just… kiss me and make everything better. This isn't a movie or a book; our ending's already come and gone. It came the moment you first lied to me."

A hurt half sigh, half sob escapes her lips, and she looks away, tears brimming. "I… I don't know what to do, Castle. I lo-"

His hand snaps up, stopping her. "_No. _Don't say you love me, because it's just your way of keeping me. And don't cry. It's pathetic." She's never seen him so angry. "You see, Beckett, you're only saying and doing all of this now because you're afraid to lose me. What you don't understand, however, is that you lost me the moment you first lied to me."

She can't help it; the tears roll over and spill down her cheeks rapidly now, heart breaking. "Oh, _Cas-"_

Castle's index finger comes up to shush her. "Nope. I'm not finished. We are, but I'm not." He moves over to his desk, unlocks the bottom drawer, and pulls out a large manila envelope. He sets it in her lap, and she looks down at it before glancing at him, clearly puzzled. "I've got some news for you. I've been looking into your mother's death without your permission. I know how wrong it is, but I only did it out of my feelings for you. Seeing how those no longer exist, I'm returning it to you. There's a lot more information in there now. I wish you luck."

Beckett clutches her head between her hands, mind whirling. It's all happening so quickly, a whirlwind. She ambiguously hears him saying some more things before she looks up at him once again, his words coming into focus. "Consider this my resignation." Her shaking hands sift through the mountainous stack of papers, shaking her head as fury and betrayal and hurt courses through her veins.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Those damned secrets. Now, if that's all, I'd ask you to please make your leave, now."

Her eyes flash to his, fuming. "You… you-"

"Yeah, I totally shredded any trust you had in me. Pot meets kettle."

He begins to herd her back into the living room. Her legs are like jelly, and she nearly collapses onto the floor near the couch. She finally plants her feet down stiffly, firmly onto the floor when she's standing right outside of the door. "_No, _Castle, I'm not leaving. Not until we settle this out."

He opens the door swiftly anyway, ignoring her and gently pushing her out into the hallway. "I'll call you when the last Heat book comes out, okay? Have a nice life."

The door slams in her face. Beckett looks down at the folder and begins to cry all over again. At first, she begins to think about how she truly has no one left at all anymore, and then she begins to think about how that very thought is selfish, and she nearly spits at herself in disgust. She waits until she gets home to completely break down, but after a while, she looks at the folder.

It'd only take some more time for him to forgive her. He'd have to, right?

But he doesn't love her anymore. He will. Eventually. Hopefully. He's got to.

Beckett opens the folder, and begins to read.

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><p><strong>Yes, I know how rushed the ending was, but my mind was failing. :P Plus, I wrote this thing in its entirety in about two hours. <strong>

**Some might say Castle was OOC in this, but I beg to differ. Rick was blinded by hurt and betrayal. Obviously he'll come around… with time. The wound was still fresh for him in this. Anyways, despite these things (and the drama/hurt/angst of the piece), I hope you enjoyed it.**


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